Did I tell y’all that someone searched for passed out girls fucked while sleeping and pulled up my site? That made me pretty happy.
I don’t have much to write about these days - Will got the job, but he has to train in the warehouse for six months. He’ll still be making more money, and in three months he’ll have insurance, so we’re both happy. He knows everyone where I work anyway (yes, he will be working with me - for a few days out of the week anyway, the other days he goes to another warehouse about an hour away.)
More money means saving money. Saving money means building a house.
My mother and I, without telling the groom, have set a date for the wedding. I can’t wait to tell my FMIL. Even better, I can’t wait to get my ring, so I can tell Will. He says he has a plan on when/how to propose, but I’m not so sure. I’m trying to be even more patient now that he is having health problems. The last thing we need is him trying to walk down the aisle when his fool legs don’t work.
Next week he has an appointment, and we should know when and if we are going to Houston for more tests.
Today Will and my dad are playing golf, so Mom and I are going shopping.
Right now I’m thinking about making my sweet boyfriend cookies…but will probably sit here and play scopa in my pajamas until I have to get dressed.
The Simon’s cat cartoons have always reminded me of Will and Katy, but this really hits the nail on the head:
The only thing about Katy that is not completely wonderfully endearing is her VOICE. If she were a human, she would be a cigaretty old hag, hacking up smoke and lung-colored phlegm that’s been collecting in the back of her throat for thirty years. If Katy were a human she would work in a truck stop. A very sweet, lovable, feminine truck stop, BUT STILL. Only a truck stop could amass the kind of oxygen that would create the kind of meow she has. It is scratchy and throaty and worst of all LOUD and CONSTANT.
For instance, as I’m writing this she’s standing behind me, pointed towards the kitchen (WHERE THE FOOD LIVES), shrieking her little kitty lungs out.
Y’all, she has food. I fed her five minutes ago, but that is not FRESH ENOUGH.
I’m gonna let her go find her daddy, and tell him all about it.
Someone sent me this song a long time ago. Or recommended it or something. It’s what I was listening to when I posted last.
I think I’m going to start uploading songs here and there. I have pretty shitty and boring taste in music, but it gets me through a lot.
Of course, let me know if this doesn’t work and we’ll abort the mission for now. I am pretty unlucky when it comes to this sort of thing, so I’m fully anticipating it not working.
It’s hard being Southern in the summer. Everything is wilted or dead. Plants, animals, people, the air. When I worked outside and smoked (I have since given up both - neither of my own free will), we used to have to keep our cigarettes in the fridge. If we didn’t, they would get too damp to light. No one will ever convince me that dry heat is worse that what Louisiana has. I’ve been in dry heat - it’s a piece of cake, except that my gills don’t work.
Did I even write about having to go to Houston in a couple of weeks? We have to go to Houston in a couple of weeks. They think it’s genetic now, and want to do a muscle biopsy. I really just want the doctors around here to throw up their hands and say WE ARE NOT SMART ENOUGH TO FIGURE THIS OUT instead of pushing us back and forth. Will doesn’t want to go to Houston, but I’m ready. I want to know what’s going on, what to expect in the future from his body, possibly our kids’.
One of my very good friends, who I’ve let down a million times, is going through a hard time. Something I went through years ago, only I didn’t have a family to put before me, and I had a better support system in my parents, so my decision and the conclusion was easier. I want to help her, but I don’t know how, except to give her advice (which is mostly useless) and kind words. Which are also useless, now that I think of it.
I don’t know about other people, but I don’t like hearing “I know how you feel.”
I try to never ever undermine someone’s feelings by assuming I’ve been in their shoes. Maybe you lost your pet. I’ve lost a pet, too, but that doesn’t mean our hurt is the same. Maybe you’re thinking of this one memory you have of you and this pet that I can’t see, and it makes you hurt worse. I don’t know, you know? So I’m going to let everyone sit back and hurt and love and feel as much as they want. I have no idea how you feel, but I almost always want to make it better.
And to see my friends hurt, well. I feel so helpless and useless and terrible.
I have a great uncle who lives across the road from me. I do not know him very well. He has a beautiful vegetable garden, I know that. I can see it from my front porch. Anyway, he is also across the road from his sister, my grandmother. Today he found out he has liver cancer, and he has six months to live, at most. My grandmother is upset, obviously. I can’t help but think what I would do if something happened to my sister. I am trying to not think about it, because I’m upsetting myself, but what would I do? I guess not a damn thing, what can you do? Sit back and watch. Sit back and let people hurt, because it’s out of your hands.
Will and Katy are, without question, a TEAM. I am not a player on their elite team, but I am a spectator.
If Will is in the bathroom, Katy hangs outside the door and waits for him. If he’s not even at home, Katy walks around looking for him, sad and dejected. Once I get out of bed on Sunday mornings, leaving Will to thrash and yell “FUCK!” Katy takes my spot on my side of the bed. When we are eating dinner, Katy jumps up on Will’s chair and he has to make room for her. If not, she’ll just pull up her own chair and scoot next to him.
The one thing they do as a team that I cannot stand happens when I mop. The second I put the mop down to admire my shiny kitchen floor, here they come, one after another. She heads for the litter box in the laundry room, he heads for the fridge. They know I have mopped - I have told them as much BEFORE I mopped, then REMINDED them WHILE I WAS MOPPING.
I guess it’s a lot like having kids. If they weren’t so cute, I’d kill them.
…and video footage complete with the song I hate most in the world, with a cheesy chain-letter-esque message at the end:
To further my pain, I am watching it over and over, sitting at my desk sobbing. Did I ever tell you I like animals more than I like people? I really do.
Yesterday somebody searched for Todd Raboy and pulled up my site! It’s like being reunited with your lost puppy on a snowy Christmas morning, knowing I’m not the only one searching for him. Unless it’s actually Todd Raboy, searching for himself.
Freak.
We are now actively seeking for a new job for Will. In my family, that means we are going to throw him at my father and see if he sticks (Hey, dad, money is glue, get it?). My dad is actually in love with my boyfriend, and does want to hire him for a position in the company, so maybe it will work out. The extra income will be super nice, the insurance will be splendid, and sometimes he will have to travel overnight, so I can go get my drink on with the girls without feeling guilty about Will at home in his boxers, watching ESPN and shoving his face with fistfuls of chocolate chip cookies.
That is what he does when I am there, but if I am not there nagging about the yard (CUT IT), bitching about the laundry (PUT IT UP) or pulling on his ears (BECAUSE THEY ARE CUTE), he tells me he gets lonesome.
My mom and I have been doing tae-bo (SHUT UP) for the past couple days after work and I am so sore. I used to work out all the time with weights, Will and I even ran, but nothing kicked my ass as much as this shit has. My back even hurts, but not in the way my back USUALLY hurts, it hurts because I used muscles that I have apparently never ever used, except for bending over very quickly to pick up a Cheeto I dropped so I can eat it without being chided. The weird part is we’ve only done it twice, and we can both already see a difference. If Will DOES get this job and goes out of town, my mom and I are going to meet all you young things at the bar, looking fine. Uh-huh. *finger snap*
I’d like to at least tone up by September, because I have officially won a trip to Sandestin! It’s a special trip from a manufacturer, through my company, and I got to go a couple years ago. My company sets a certain quota for the manufacturer’s merchandise, and if you meet it, you go. Easy peasy this year, because my quota was super low, based on last year’s sales. We stay at the Hilton resort and we get a spa day and we have our own special cabana where we can eat and drink whatever we want, however much we want, alllllll the time. It’s also near my birthday, and my dad goes as well, so it will be a good time. I was super fast this year, so now I have to sit back and cross my fingers that all my friends in the company meet THEIR quotas.
In Will’s Health Corner, he is doing ok. He has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, but I’m not sure if they’re going to just talk to him about the kidney biopsy or actually perform the kidney biopsy. Either way, it will be good to get the ball rolling and see if they can’t figure out why he’s not keeping potassium.
Did I tell all y’all thank you for your concern? Thank you. I love the internet.
Almost last thing: Can I get everyone’s opinion on paid posting? I know a lot of people do it. I’ve been talking to Melinda about it, and think I’m going to dip my little piggy toes in with y’all. I won’t do it here on my personal blog, either a separate page or something like Kalen has, I really like that idea. I just need some input, some advice, some suggestions for a beginner (remembering I have only the basic understanding of how to use this internet machine). Mostly I need a way to buy more shoes without Will wagging his very handsome finger at me. Ok, no more shoes, but I really need to decorate our house. I’m tired of living in what looks like someone’s half-assed dorm room.
Last thing: Will found this site, Prep Sportswear, and he ordered some stuff. I don’t know about the quality yet, but I will let y’all know. You can basically take any school and make a t-shirt for it! If Will likes his, I’m going to make one for my dad for Christmas, since his high school is now an elementary school. I’m going to get one for me, too, just like Dad’s, because I’m that fucking cheesy, and because that’s where I went to school when I was a kid, and where I wanted to be a cheerleader and graduate from. Go Team!
Will has been doing great, really awesome. When they released him from the hospital we (including the doctors) assumed his potassium got so low because of playing basketball and then not taking care of himself, so they didn’t give him anything to take. Wednesday night he woke up around 4 A.M. with leg cramps and asked for a banana and then he was fine. I was worried, but not as worried, because that happens to me frequently.
We went to bed around 9:45 last night (old folks, and still tired from all the hospital business before), feeling good, full of a dinner out, and ready to sleep alllll day Friday. But then around midnight Will woke me up and said “Bring me anything, bring me a banana!” so I brought him one but his legs weren’t just cramping…he was back to not being able to move. I called his doctor, who wasn’t on call. I talked to another doctor (and I still stand by the fact that he seems INSANE, on the phone and in person) and he seemed completely unconcerned about a perfectly healthy and fit 26 year old man who couldn’t fucking walk. He said take him to the ER, so that’s what we did.
He was in pretty good spirits…my parents had to come over so Dad could get him in the car and the most horrible thing I’ve seen yet is when we got to the hospital and his parents tried to get him out of the car and into a wheelchair…and dropped him on the sidewalk. The hospital was RIDICULOUSLY understaffed, and it’s not my preferred hospital, but my future MIL works there, so we have to use it. If I were to be honest with myself, the other hospital is probably just as bad. I think it’s just our medical system I’m not real comfortable with. Will’s case for example: I was never ok with them not telling us why, or if it will happen again. All the doctors wanted to do was pass it on to another doctor.
We got to the ER and this time his potassium was not as low as the first time, but still not anywhere near normal range. They gave him some by mouth and started an IV that they told us would take FIVE HOURS. His heart rate was also something like 160 (It may have been even higher, but I can’t remember…even when we left it was still 117) and his blood pressure was sky high, but they told us this was a symptom of low potassium.
So we sat there for five hours. We had gotten in there around 1 A.M. and they started the drip around 2 A.M., I think. It was done at 7:30, his legs only becoming mobile again about thirty minutes before it was done. We saw several nurses (all male, haha) and one crazy-ass doctor with a torn up, filthy lab coat and a bad Ross-from-Friends haircut (you know the one) and I kept praying “Please, God, don’t let this guy be his doctor. Anybody but him.” The reasoning is because he came in there and said things that were completely different than what all the nurses had told us, stuff he seemed to MAKE UP ON THE SPOT and did I mention his lab coat was so dirty it could no longer be classified as white? Yeah. He even just came out and said, “I don’t know what is going on. Let’s admit him into the hospital.”
On 4th of July, a holiday, followed by a weekend, where no one will see him and our bills will pile up. No way, hoss.
Luckily, he called the insane doctor from the my phone call that morning and he came up to help us. The insane doctor started off his examination with asking my poor Will, “Do you know who I am? Do you know where I’m from?” and general questions about his life until he started HITTING HIM and asking him, “Do you know why I’m hitting you? Do you know what’s there where I’m hitting?”
I don’t know if y’all are like me, but I would prefer a doctor to just come out and say I’M FROM NEW YORK AND I’M HITTING YOUR KIDNEYS WITH MY BIG COLD FISTS. I was delirious by this point, or I would have burst out crying. Stop punching my sick boyfriend, dude.
The doctor decided Will needed a kidney biopsy next week, so that’s what’s going on. He thinks that for some reason, his kidneys are leaking potassium selectively, and that’s it. The two reasons he’s going on is genetics or toxic fumes from the paint Will’s been mixing and working with for six years.
But then the doctor LET US GO HOME! And he wrote us an RX for POTASSIUM! So this won’t happen again while they try to fit the puzzle together! What a novel idea! Dr. Punch-my-sick-boyfriend is my new best friend.
This time was a lot harder on me - I would actually take the days after the spinal tap to this. At least after the spinal tap we knew WHY he was hurting, and he had pain pills, and then we had an option to stop it, and we did. This time I sat in a cold emergency room holding my boyfriend while he cried and asked me what if our kids have this? What if it’s cancer and they don’t know it yet?
We finally got home around 11 A.M. and went to bed, but I had to wake him up and give him his pill. We are on a tight schedule: 6-2-10, I keep repeating to myself.
I’m still so exhausted and I can’t quite get back to sleep so I thought I would let all you great people know what’s going on. I hope this biopsy solves it. I’m sick of watching him hurt. And cry, sweet Jesus. I don’t like to see him cry and worry or fret, because those are things he doesn’t do.
As usual, thank you for all the e-mails…you guys are wonderful. I hope this is the last time you have to worry about some strange little man in the deep south who can’t use his damn legs for no damn reason. But yes, next time my phone number is being sent out in a mass e-mail so y’all can call and keep me sane!
Tonight: weenie roast with a ton of my family, and fireworks! And lots of potassium pills.
